


As Above, So Below

by Fox_In_A_Box



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, I mean what did you expect, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Very briefly mentioned though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 17:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_In_A_Box/pseuds/Fox_In_A_Box
Summary: Still unable to come to terms with Arachne's death, Giriko returns to Prague in the hopes of finding a new purpose to keep living. Long and uneventful days follow one another, bringing him almost on the brink of madness until, one day, a certain Death Scythe shows up with an offer.





	As Above, So Below

**Author's Note:**

> So, I began to write this as a lighthearted vignette and...it escalated into something else entirely. I'm so sorry. Anyway, this is an exploration of how Justin and Giriko could potentially meet again after the ending of the anime and maaaybe wind up working together. Hope you enjoy!

He had even thought about killing himself, as he stumbled through the dark streets of his beloved Prague, looking for a bar still open in the middle of the night and a barman who wouldn't ask too many questions before serving him a glass of the strongest liquor they had.

 

What did he have left? Arachne was dead, and with her the countless plans and projects he had given hundreds and hundreds of years of his own life for; it was only a matter of time before Lord Death would send someone to hunt him down and, at that point, the thought of a quick, possibly painless death, was more appealing to him than the prospect of spending the rest of his miserable life locked inside a small, filthy cell in the basement of the DWMA.

 

He didn't know why he had decided against it, in the end. Or maybe he did.

 

It hadn't been for the somewhat enticing pain of alcohol burning down his throat, but rather because of /something else/ burning deep under his skin, knotting the pit of his stomach in a more subtle and devious way. Something that couldn't be willed away just by downing a glass of ice-cold water and that had brought him to refuse to leave Earth before having slaughtered one by one all the people who had dared to strip away from him the only purpose he had dedicated his entire life to.

 

His restless nights were haunted by the anguished screams of his enemies, the sight of their blood on his hands and a feeling of euphoria that always faded away as soon as he woke up.

 

And during the day, his fantasies of revenge clashed with the awareness of his own helplessness in front of an all too powerful organization ready to take him down at the first signs of hostility.

 

Only when his own grudge against the world had led him almost on the brink of madness, he appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

 

It was a cold November morning when the Death Scythe approached him, as he sat on the steps of an old building right in front of the clock tower, sipping the last drops of whiskey from his bottle. With a black winter coat instead of his usual priest-like attire and his cheeks reddened by the freezing air, Justin Law reminded him more of a runaway kid wearing his father's clothes than one of the most deadly and skilled agents of the DWMA.

 

In his eyes, however, there was no trace of childlike innocence.

His expression was a mixture of contempt and barely concealed satisfaction, as if he was immensely pleased in seeing his enemy reduced to nothing more than a miserable wretch, but tried to hide it in order to maintain some semblance of respectability.

 

The look he cast in his direction made Giriko's blood boil in his veins.

 

"So, they finally bothered to send someone to kill me off?"

 

How ironic. Just when he had decided to keep on living in the faint hope of being able to seek his revenge, an executioner appeared to carry out his sentence, to end his existence for good after more than eight centuries.

 

But the truth, as it seemed, was even worse than he had expected.

 

"Not yet. Lord Death is interested in some of your talents and thinks they could be very useful to his cause," Justin said. "If you ask me, working for an organization striving to create a better and safer future for humanity sounds better than drinking yourself to death in some sleazy bar."

 

Giriko's first instinct was to laugh and laugh he did.

He laughed right in his face to show how little he thought of him and all of his asshole friends back in America.

 

"And what makes you think I'd be willing to work for people like you?"

 

Justin sighed, a small puff forming in the air as his breath encountered the freezing atmosphere and shook his head disapprovingly.

 

"Pride is a deadly sin, Mr.Giriko," his eyes fell on the empty bottle, now resting on the ground at his feet. "And so is gluttony."

 

It was right then that Giriko decided he wasn't willing to put up with his patronizing attitude any longer.

 

He quickly got up to his feet and before Justin could react, he grabbed the silver chain the blond wore around his neck with the effect of making him stumble forward.

 

"You fucking hypocrite," Giriko spat, his face now dangerously close to Justin's. "You like to play the part of some kind of saint, but you're more than happy to get your hands dirty when that asshole god of yours asks you to! You're a sadistic bastard, that you are! And you're no better than me."

 

They looked at each other, both perfectly aware that a gruesome fight could break out at any moment. Giriko found himself craving for the instant in which blades would spurt out of their flesh and he could would finally satisfy, at least for a while, his thirst for fresh blood.

 

For a single moment, Justin's mask of cold detachment faltered. Giriko was able to see a small crack in his façade, the shadow of doubt obscuring his features, making him wonder if his words had struck a sore subject after all. But it lasted only for that one moment, and when it passed Justin had already slid away from his grasp, putting on his unemotional expression once more.

 

"It's clear that you have no idea of what you're talking about," he said. "I'll leave you some time to think about the offer."

 

And with that, he was gone.

 

Giriko was left staring at his back as he walked away, disappearing among the dozens of residents and tourists crowding the place. Too many thoughts chased one another inside his mind and his body was still shaking with rage and unsatisfied bloodlust.

 

He looked up at the grey, cloud filled sky. The image of sudden doubt in the Death Scythe's blue eyes still haunted him. He coulnd't help but wonder if he used to have that same look on his face, if he used to have that same unyielding faith in someone when Arachne was still alive and he wanted nothing but to please her.

 

Maybe -he cursed himself for having even thought about it- they weren't so different after all.

 

Giriko smiled bitterly to himself.

He needed another drink.

 

 

*****

 

 

"Are you alright?"

 

Giriko didn't really know how to answer.

 

After all, he wasn't the one panting and bleeding profusely from a deep-looking cut just above his left eyebrow. Justin Law of all people was standing right in front of him, oblivious to the thin trail of blood dripping along the side of his face, waiting for him to respond.

 

Instead of indulging him with a proper answer, however, Giriko settled for expressing the first thought that had crossed his mind, which was something along the lines of...

 

"What the fuck?!"

 

Justin furrowed his brows in a displeased expression.

 

"Well, uh, not the 'thank you' I was hoping for but I guess I'll have to be content with it."

 

It took a short while before his brain kicked back into gear and he was able to process the details of what had just happened. The sight of three lifeless bodies lying on the concrete not too far from Justin himself made it definitely easier to remember the chain of events that had led him there.

 

He could surely blame the amount of alcohol in his blood for his complete lack of quick reflexes, but it didn't make how easily it had been for some random thugs to overpower him any less humiliating. He had had barely the time to hear indistinct sounds of commotion coming from behind him and a cry of "That's him! That witch-loving scum!" before he had been pulled to the ground and the blade of something that could have very well been a knife or just the partially transformed arm of a weapon took a slash at his throat.

 

A slash that only thanks to the perfectly timed intervention of the death weapon didn't manage to break the skin and mark his sudden, pathetic demise on the cobblestones of a back alley in the outskirts of Prague.

 

Only then did he look up again to meet Justin's gaze.

 

With the last rays of sunshine hitting his blond hair and the shining silver blades still coming out of his forearms, he looked like a warrior angel sent by a vengeful God to purge the Earth and Giriko, had he been less drunk and less pissed off, would have congratulated with himself for finding such a pretentious metaphor.

 

As soon as he tried to get up, the world started to spin around him and he couldn't help but wonder if it was really the fault of the multiple shots of vodka he'd downed not long before or if, when he had been suddenly attacked, his head had hit the concrete harder than he had thought. He squeezed his eyes shut, in a desperate attempt to will the nauseating sensation away.

 

" _You._ " he grumbled, when he was finally able to focus on the young man standing before him. "For how long?"

 

Justin's expression changed again, this time into a perplexed frown.

 

"For how long what?"

 

"Don't play dumb with me, you little bastard!" Giriko growled. "For how long have you been following me?"

 

As understanding washed over him, Justin seemed to hesitate before answering. He felt his shattered pride roar to life inside his chest when he noticed how the blond had just taken a couple of steps back.

_At least he still thinks I'm dangerous. Good._

 

"You wouldn't like the answer."

 

Giriko narrowed his eyes.

 

Maybe he had really died.

Maybe that was his personal Hell, and the powers that ruled the underworld had enough sense of humour to torment him with a perfect imitation of the only person capable of making him lose his already precarious calm in less than a split second.

 

Because as far as he was concerned, Justin Law seemed to exist for the only purpose of messing with his temper, and Giriko was already starting to regret their first encounters when they hardly had any time to speak and let their chains and blades do all the talking.

 

Yes, that must have been it. He was toying with him like a cat playing with its helpless prey before tearing it apart with its claws and there was no other reason for him to decide to save his life only to bring up that same, absurd offer he had made...what, weeks ago? Maybe even months? He was already losing track of time. Great.

 

"Why the hell are you still here?"

 

"Believe me, I'd very much rather be anywhere else right now, but unfortunately I can't. I've been ordered to look after you, it would be very ..." the blond paused for a moment, looking for the right word. "Inconvenient if something happened to you under my watch. At least until you've had time to consider our offer."

 

"I've had more than enough time to consider it, thank you very much. Now fuck off!"

 

Justin offered him an unimpressed look.

 

"I don't think you understand what's being offered to you."

 

"Yeah, because you're a smartass and I'm a fuckin' idiot, aren't I?"

 

"Lord Death is not so naive to believe you would accept money or any other kind of material reward for your collaboration. In fact, he's not offering you a reward at all, he's just offering you an opportunity."

 

"And that would be?"

 

"Do you want to know who killed Arachne?"

 

Giriko distinctively felt his heart skip a beat. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but immediately found himself unable to give order to his thoughts and ended up stumbling around the words.

 

"Don't you _dare_ speak her name --"

 

"She was already dead when we got to her." Justin interrupted him, ice cold eyes fixed on him to study his reaction.

 

_No, no, no you have to keep focused. He's playing with your mind, he's lying just to get you to accept! ...or is he?_

 

"You're...You're just fucking with me, kid!" Giriko tried to snarl at him, but what came out of his mouth sounded more like a desperate, nervous laugh.

 

"Am I? Well, if you must know Asura is dead. But, alas, there are still people who worship him and praise him for his deeds. Now, you could stay here and spend the rest of your

life as a miserable drunk, or you could decide to help us destroy the people that brought him back and let him kill her. The choice is yours."

 

"But why me?"

 

Justin didn't answer. Instead, he extended a hand towards him. A silent invitation.

 

Against any better judgement, Giriko took it.

 

It was cold. Cold as if, instead of blood, he had the same silver of his blades running through his veins.

 

A voice in his head suggested him that he had probably just signed the closest thing there was to a deal with the devil. Only with nothing much to lose, and no unfathomable riches or eternal life as a reward. Just the promise of obtaining his long-sought revenge and then living the rest of his life -his last life- in peace if he ever could bring himself to find it.

 

He let Justin help him up to his feet and brushed the dust off of his clothes with a hasty gesture.

 

"Have you made your decision?"

 

Yes, he had.

A decision he was ready to bet he would regret in a very short time, but a decision nonetheless. The trick, he considered, was just not thinking too much about its implications.

 

The Death Scythe seemed to take his silence as a yes and slowly nodded in acknowledgement.

 

"Come with me, then."

 

Before he turned his back to him, Giriko thought he had caught the glimpse of a little smile forming on Justin's lips.

 

He huffed.

 

No matter what the little bastard thought, he wasn't going to become his lap dog and play tricks for Lord Death and all of his acolytes to see.

Oh, on the contrary. From now on, he was going to make the kid's life incredibly difficult and no big blue eyes and sharp tongue could have persuaded him otherwise.

 

As he left the city behind, Giriko did his best to focus on the future instead of the past and all the memories, sweet or painful as they may have been, that he was leaving behind alongside it.

 

Now, he reminded to himself, he had once again found something he had lost in the middle of the war that had killed his mistress.

A purpose. Something to wait for, maybe even to look forward to.

 

He just had to do what he had already proven to be capable of; keep the beast at bay until he had the chance to let go of the leash and let it rave until blood and destruction sated his thirst. Clench his teeth, swallow what was left of his pride and wait.

 

He had done it for eight thousand years, he could do it again.

 

Or, at the very least, he could try.

 

**Author's Note:**

> In retrospect, I /may/ have a soft spot for Giriko invading Justin's personal space and making him realise that maybe, just maybe his blind devotion to Lord Death is not exactly healthy.


End file.
